


tigers and sharks

by dogyeom



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, jeonghan is kind of an asshole, jeonghan pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogyeom/pseuds/dogyeom
Summary: seokmin is hopeless. wonwoo is beautiful. jeonghan is selfish.





	tigers and sharks

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this 2 years ago so sorry if it's not very good, i just found it again and decided to publish

 

 

When Seokmin and Wonwoo started dating, Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He was happy for them, really. Or at least, that’s what he had insisted to everyone with a desperate smile. It was just after their second year exams, at one of Mingyu’s incessant get-togethers. There were ten of them, a tight-knit group that had formed through course projects and living together in halls, and they were practically inseparable. Everyone knew, or knew of, the lot of them; they trailed around campus like a pride of lions. To the surprise of a lot of outsiders, none of them were dating one another. Mingyu and Nayeon fooled around with each other more often than not, but they swore time and time again that it was nothing more than that.

Jeonghan wished that wasn’t the case. He wished... he wished and dreamt and fantasized of a life with Wonwoo. After months of pathetic pining, he realised that it was all he had ever wanted. It consumed him. But, he was a coward. He never said anything, he just smiled and teased so when Wonwoo gave his arm a friendly push or gave one of his _‘Oh, Hannie… you’re the best, you know that?’_  lines Jeonghan felt an angry fire rising up from his feet through his gut and straight into his throat.

It was some night in June. Everyone was supposed to be packing up and going home, seeing their families, but no one really wanted to leave. Mingyu’s proposition was to throw as many parties, get-togethers, sessions and night outs as possible, just to keep the gang bound together as long as he could.

At around one, Jeonghan found himself in Seungcheol and Mingyu’s kitchen. He was trying - and failing - to flick bottle caps from one side of the room into the bin by the door. Seokmin had almost tore the door off its hinges when he burst in and Jeonghan jumped about three inches into the air, sloshing the beer in his hands all over his jeans.

“There you are,” Seokmin breathed as he stumbled around the island to his friend. The younger boy reached Jeonghan and wrapped a hand around his shoulder.

“I’m gonna do it,” Seokmin hiccupped.

“Do what?”

“I’m gonna do it,” He repeated. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna tell him, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “What on Earth are you talking about, Seoku?”

“Wonwoo.” Seokmin said, firmly. He hiccupped slightly before continuing. “I love him.”

Jeonghan thought he was going to be sick. He stared at his best friend, dumbfounded. It was ages before he was suddenly speaking before thinking.

“You love Wonwoo? Wonwoo? Why?”

“Well,” Seokmin hiccupped again. “I just do. I didn’t mean to. I always fancied him... He’s fit, you know? … So pretty. And now…” Seokmin sighed and took a beer from the island, one that Jeonghan had cracked open but hadn’t drunk. “Now I just… I love him. I really do. I see him and I feel so happy. He makes me so happy, when he talks… when he laughs… his hair, his face… I love him, Jeonghan. I really do. I want to tell him, I always have but…”

Seokmin turned to face him suddenly. Jeonghan couldn’t help it, he was staring and his expression was one of horror.

“Do I sound pathetic?” Seokmin asked. Jeonghan didn’t answer.

“I sound completely pathetic. I do, don’t I?”

“Seokmin—“

“What do I do, Jeonghan?” Seokmin pleaded. Jeonghan noticed the slight glaze over his eyes. He’d been drinking and was heavy on his feet because of it, but he wasn’t completely gone. Jeonghan knew that this wasn’t one of their usual confessional conversations, the ones that Seokmin seemed to always forget in the morning but Jeonghan never did. Seokmin would remember this and he knew it.

Jeonghan shook his head. “I don’t know.” His voice was quiet and pathetic.

“Should I tell him?” Seokmin took another swig of the flat beer and let out a well-timed hiccup.

Jeonghan just shrugged. He felt like all the energy in his body had been zapped out. He had never even thought, it had never even occurred to him that Seokmin could like Wonwoo in that way. Jeonghan had never done or said anything that would hint to his passion for the boy. He was clever and had kept it covered, locked away. But he had been naïve and believed that he would stay alone and in the future, somehow, they would be together. One day, just randomly, it would happen.

Seokmin and Wonwoo were close. Perhaps, the closest of all ten of them. They both studied film and literature and had sat together in their first ever lecture. Wonwoo had lived in a flat with Mingyu in their first year and Jeonghan had met them all through Seungcheol. The pair of them were together all the time, and even when they weren’t they would always find a way to talk about each other. It would be ‘Guys, you have to watch this video Seokmin showed me.’ or ‘Wonwoo said this hilarious thing this morning,’ or ‘Minnie has the best idea for a song, has he told you?’ or ‘You need to meet Wonwoo’s family. They’re the best.’

Jeonghan was so stupid. He’d never have even guessed. The way Seokmin’s lips twitched in an immediate response when Wonwoo spoke or touched him or walked into a room, the way Seokmin looked at him as if he had fashioned the sun himself, the way Seokmin guffawed at his wit as if it was the most hilarious thing ever uttered, the way Seokmin would go out of his way to make sure he was never alone if he had a doctor’s appointment or a tutorial or anything. Jeonghan knew, with a heavy and angry heart, that if Wonwoo found out about Seokmin’s true intentions, he wouldn’t coil away in disgust. He knew, as much as it fucking pained him to think, that it was extremely likely he would feel the same way.

He was so stupid. So stupid to think that Seokmin’s protective and affectionate instincts for the boy had been merely due to some sort of fraternal complex. Jeonghan had thought, like an idiot, that Wonwoo was his and somehow his impassioned feelings for him would create an invisible force field, preventing any one else from feeling the same way as him.

“Shit.” Seokmin said suddenly and very loudly. “Shit, shit, shit fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. What do I do?”

Jeonghan couldn’t answer. He couldn’t will himself to say anything. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire. He looked at Seokmin. Seokmin, his best friend. Seokmin, whom he loved as if he were his own brother. In this moment he wanted to claw his eyes out. Or at least, drop to his knees and beg him to just stop. To just suppress his feelings, to pretend they don’t exist, just like he had done for two years.

“I’m gonna tell him.” Seokmin said. He stood up firmly, only waving on his feet slightly. He pushed aside the bottle of beer and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap and downing it in seconds. “I’m gonna tell him.” He said it again, as if repeating it like a mantra would build up the confidence Jeonghan could tell Seokmin was failing to muster.

“I’m going.” Seokmin declared. He spun to Jeonghan and threw his arms around his shoulders. “Wish me luck.”

Jeonghan tried to say the simple words _‘Good luck’_ but no sound came out of his mouth. Seokmin had left the room so quickly that even if Jeonghan had tried to tell him not to go he wouldn’t have heard. The kitchen door was still swinging on its hinges when Jeonghan heard Seokmin say _‘Wonwoo, can I talk to you upstairs? ’_ and suddenly Jeonghan felt as if he couldn’t hear, see or feel anything.

He really did think he was going to be sick. He felt like he was being controlled with a remote when he reached out to the island and began on the flat beers he had uncapped earlier. He was drinking on autopilot. He looked a mess — he knew it — and at one point he burped while guzzling down cider, disgustingly spitting up alcohol all over himself.

He was in there for at least half an hour before he found the sense to heave himself out of the kitchen. His eyelids were heavy and his hands and feet felt numb. He could see Mingyu, Nayeon and Seungcheol sat around the coffee table, chatting and laughing irritatingly at something. They greeted him as he felt his way to the sofa, collapsing into it like a house of cards.

“You alright, Jeonghan?” Nayeon asked from her seat in Mingyu’s lap. She crawled off the boy, batting away his hands, and found herself sitting next to Jeonghan on the adjacent sofa.

“Yeah, where the fuck have you been, man?” Mingyu asked.

“Kitchen.” Jeonghan burped shamelessly.

“You fucking saddo.” Seungcheol laughed. “What have you been in there for?”

“Where’s Wonwoo?” Jeonghan asked without thinking. “…And Seokmin?”

The three of them looked at each other with coy smiles. “Upstairs,” Nayeon said in a sing-song voice. Jeonghan’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah they’ve been up there for fucking ages.” Mingyu said.

Nayeon smiled. “It’s so sweet, though, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Jeonghan asked. “What’s sweet?”

“Those two,” Nayeon continued, kicking her feet up so they were resting in Mingyu’s lap. “I mean, it’s about time, right? We’ve all been waiting for this to happen for almost two years. They never shut up about each other but they’re both so oblivious… and stubborn. It’s a good thing Minnie finally came to his senses, or I might have done it myself.”

“They might’ve had the courtesy to go back to his house. Probably balls deep in round two on my fucking bed. Gross, they better change the sheets—“

“Oh, shut up.” Nayeon mimed kicking Mingyu in the face. Jeonghan had flushed a fiery red and he was attempting to hide behind a couch pillow. “Just cause you’re not getting any, you don’t have to be bitter about everyone else.”

Mingyu grabbed onto her ankle and playfully tugged on her leg, causing Nayeon to shift down into the sofa. “And whose fault is it that I’m not getting any, Nayeon?”

“Not mine, you twat.” Nayeon said with a roll of her eyes.

“All I’m saying is, if I go to bed and they’re still at it I’ll personally and physically intervene.”

Seungcheol snorted. “I want to see that.”

“No you won’t. You can sleep in here.” Nayeon said, stealing the cider from his hand and swigging from it.

“I don’t think so. I’m not giving up my own bed so my friends can shag.”

“Leave them alone. They’re in love.”

Jeonghan wanted to cry.

 

 

—

 

 

When Seokmin and Wonwoo first said _‘I love you’_ to each other, Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He hadn’t meant to be listening, it was a private conversation, but he couldn’t help himself. He hated himself for it, but he often found himself listening to them when they were together. All of their houses had thin walls, and people had bad habits like leaving doors open. Even worse, Jeonghan found himself pretending that Wonwoo’s soft, affectionate words were for him. It was crude and awful of him, but if he walked past the kitchen or Seokmin’s bedroom and heard them talking, he would stop and listen. One night he found himself leaning against the wall next to Seokmin’s door, listening to them. He couldn’t really hear what they were saying, he was just listening. It was when he heard Seokmin let out a low but loud moan that he sprang off the wall suddenly and was practically sprinting down the stairs, muttering _‘You fucking freak. You fucking weird, sad, pathetic_ **_freak_ ** _’_ to himself.

It hurt him, to hear them together. To hear Wonwoo call someone else _baby_ , to hear him tell Seokmin how perfect he was and how he loved his nose and his mole and his long fingers. It really hurt, but he enjoyed the feeling in some fucked up way.

Seokmin and Wonwoo were sitting in the living room, curled up together with the TV on low. Jeonghan was in the kitchen washing the dishes, or at least he was pretending to. The pair of them were talking about a film they were studying until the conversation strangely shifted to Harry Potter and why they were convinced Draco and Harry were fucking. Seokmin had started on his Mr. Filch impression and Wonwoo was cackling, his head thrown back — Jeonghan couldn’t see them, but he imagined him, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach the way he always did — and his giggles ringing out like a birdsong.

There was a small silence and Jeonghan thought for a split second that they had left when Seokmin said it. It was quiet and heartbreakingly soft but it had rung in Jeonghan’s ears like it was deafening.

“I love you.”

Seokmin had already told Jeonghan that he loved Wonwoo. That night when he’d burst into the kitchen, he had said to Jeonghan, _‘Wonwoo. I love him.’_ And he had heard Wonwoo say the same. A few nights ago when he shouldn’t have been listening he heard him say to Nayeon, _‘I love him, I really do.’_

This was different. It was the first time he had said it to his face. It held so much more weight.

This was _I love you_ . _I am so utterly in love with you_ . _You are my heart._ Jeonghan heard the sincerity and the ardent passion in Seokmin’s voice. It was a declaration, not just a throwaway comment. It hung in the air and Jeonghan could feel that, even on the other side of the wall.

He had squeezed the sponge in his hand tight after Seokmin spoke, the soapy water running over his hand and down his arm. The pan in his hand almost clattered into the sink, but Jeonghan had reverted the reaction and gripped the handle until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t want to alert their attention; they’d probably forgotten he’d been in there the whole time. He knew that they wouldn’t think anything of his presence, but he didn’t want to raise any suspicion that he’d heard or that he was shocked or upset by their conversation. It was his unrelenting secret. He had worked so hard, so hard, to make sure that no one on Earth suspected anything. He had acted, pretended, lied for almost three years. No one was to know. No one.

Then, there were more words from the other room. That delicate, winsome voice. The voice that made Jeonghan’s ears prick up in an involuntary reflex every time it spoke. The voice that Jeonghan pretended was purring to him when he strained to hear it through walls and cracks in doors. The voice that Jeonghan listened to in his dreams.

“I love you too.”

Jeonghan really did cry that time.

 

 

-

 

 

When Seokmin and Wonwoo got engaged, Jeonghan didn’t say anything. It had been a year and a half since they had graduated. Since they’d finished university, Jeonghan had attempted to create some distance between them. He’d given up on trying to get a hold of himself and to move on. He thought that seeing Wonwoo so unbelievably happy with someone else would somehow give him a sense of closure, or whatever you want to call it. He felt selfish and stupid and cruel, but every time he was with them the sickly ball in his stomach pulsated and he’d often find himself suppressing anger. It was damaging him, he was no longer himself. He wasn’t as excitable or buoyant as he once was. He spent more time by himself.

He found himself digging out excuses when he could. The panic had risen between the group since they’d disbanded from their haven at university, and people were desperately trying to cling to each other, to keep the network strong. Jeonghan couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it all the time. And that seemed to be as much time as Seokmin and Wonwoo wanted to see him. So, when they’d thrown a party for their two-year anniversary, Jeonghan feigned an illness. When Wonwoo rang him up and asked if he wanted to come for dinner in their new flat, Jeonghan told him he had work commitments. When Seokmin had insisted they all go out for Jeonghan’s birthday, he had said that he was spending time with his family.

It was fine, he hadn’t been avoiding them completely. Everyone was busy, so no one noticed. Jeonghan loved his friends and the thought of losing them brought him indescribable sadness, but he knew he could hardly bear it. It was affecting him in ways it shouldn’t and he wanted to look after himself.

This night, however, was one he hadn’t managed to avoid. Seokmin had written a lengthy message on the group chat that Nayeon had set up and insisted everyone use regularly. The message included specific times, dates and venues and a preface that read _‘Wonwoo and I have something important to tell you all.’_

The knot was there, deep and tight in Jeonghan’s stomach. He arrived at the restaurant alone, a pokey Italian in an arty area of London. His palms were sweating and he was constantly wiping them on his coat. They were all there before him, crowded around three tables that had been pushed together in a corner of the restaurant. He was greeted with claps on his back and kisses on his cheek. Wonwoo had thrown his arms around his neck, holding him tight. His hands touched the small of his back, only lightly, like he always did. He knew if he wrapped them tighter he’d never be able to let go.

“Hey, man. It’s great to see you.” Seokmin said, pulling him into a hug also.

Jeonghan found a seat between Mingyu and Seungcheol and poured himself a glass of water. There wasn’t much scattered chatter, like there usually was during their get-togethers. Instead everyone’s attention was trained on Seokmin and Wonwoo. Everyone had read the message with curiosity. An announcement that begged for a more formal setting than a group email or Facebook message was a rare occurrence and everyone had buzzed with anticipation.

Seokmin smiled in amusement, realising what he’d done to his friends. Jeonghan noticed his and Wonwoo’s arms shift under the table and guessed that they were holding hands.

“OK... so,” Seokmin began, clearing his throat. “Wonwoo and I… we’re getting married.”

Jeonghan’s knee jerked upwards and banged loudly against the underneath of the table, making all the glasses on top wobble briefly. His reaction and embarrassment went completely unnoticed by the rest of them as they’d all erupted in gasps, cheers and cries of _‘Congratulations!’_ and _‘Yes! Finally!’_. They’d attracted the attention of the restaurant and once the patrons and waiters had clocked onto what was happening, they were clapping and cheering too.

Jeonghan forced himself to grin and clap and congratulate along with his friends after realising that sitting in his chair and staring in horror would raise unwanted suspicion. He crossed over and shook Seokmin’s hand, mumbling a _‘Congratulations, mate’_ with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“Thanks, man.” Seokmin’s smile was so bright and wide that Jeonghan couldn’t help feeling infected, despite his stomach that was turning so violently he knew whatever he ate tonight would come right back up. “Hey, remember that night when we were both hammered, and I told you? I told you I was gonna get Wonwoo to go out with me? Remember, that?”

Jeonghan nodded, his forced grin making his cheeks prickle unpleasantly.

“Look how far we’ve come, man!” Seokmin clapped his back again.

Once they’d all settled back down and managed to order appetizers, Wonwoo started on the plans they’d already made.

“Obviously, we want you all to be there. And we were wondering… if you guys would be groomsmen and bridesmaids?” He asked it tentatively, but was met with an enthusiastic cheer and a bumble of _yes yes of course_ from everyone.

“Jeonghan and Nayeon,” Seokmin announced, making Jeonghan’s head snap up. “Will you two be best man and maid of honour?”

“Oh my gosh!” Nayeon exclaimed. “Of course! We’ll do that, Han, won’t we?”

Jeonghan grinned again. He had forced it, but it hadn’t been as difficult as before. As much as this situation was drilling holes of pain into every bone in his body, he felt a sense of pride and affection at the announcement of Seokmin and Wonwoo choosing him to be best man. He met Seokmin’s gaze, the younger boy was looking at him with a smile. There was love in his eyes, and hope. This was his best friend. Seokmin, his brother. Waves and waves of guilt were coursing over Jeonghan suddenly and he felt the overwhelming urge to cry. His two best friends were getting married, they wanted him to be best man. They wanted him to hold on to their rings and they wanted him to make a speech at the reception. They were getting married and he was sitting there, wallowing in misery instead of being thrilled for them.

“Of course. I’d love to.”

Seokmin grinned wider than ever and mouthed _‘Thank you’_ . Jeonghan shook his head as if to say _‘No problem’_.

Seokmin would never know that he didn’t mean it. Because it was, for Jeonghan, a huge problem.

 

 

-

 

 

When Seokmin and Wonwoo read their vows to each other and danced for the first time as a married couple, Jeonghan didn’t say anything. Jeonghan hadn’t had much to do with the preparation for the wedding. Nayeon, Seokmin’s sister Chaeyoung and the couples’ mothers had worked together like a well-oiled machine with Seokmin and Wonwoo and the plans were smooth sailing for the most part. Jeonghan had assisted Seokmin and Wonwoo in picking out their tuxedos and the groomsmens’ ties and — with a lot of help from Mingyu — had thrown a stag-do that had been relatively enjoyable. It was a three-night thing in London, where the drinking had started far too early each day. Jeonghan had brushed off every _thank-you_ and _you’re-the-best_ that Seokmin or Wonwoo had pressed onto him. He felt guilty for not being consistently enthusiastic and supportive, but the thought of aiding this situation brought a familiar and nasty twinge to his stomach.

They married on the day of their third anniversary. It was a large ceremony and an even larger reception, what with Seokmin and Wonwoo both having huge families and substantial social circles. Being the souls they were, they hadn’t been economical with invitations. Even some of Wonwoo’s cousins’ friends and Seokmin’s work colleagues were in attendance.

Jeonghan did his duties during the ceremony to the best of his ability. He hung back during the drinks reception, making brief small talk with Wonwoo’s parents, but mainly just watching the floor or the wall or something that would distract him from having to force himself to be happy and proud.

His speech went down well. It had taken him ages to write and he’d gone through twenty different drafts. He admitted to Nayeon that he was struggling, using the excuse of _‘Well, English isn’t my first language is it?’_ She had helped as much as she could, insisting on inserting jokes to keep the distant relatives and friends entertained. He had finished it only a week earlier and had rehearsed it every morning and every night since. He spoke of Seokmin mainly, how they’d met in Mingyu and Seungcheol’s flat in first year and bonded over music and tea preferences. He spoke of their nights out together, how rowdy they used to get, how Nayeon had called them _‘Bert and Ernie’_. He spoke of the worst night of his life, when Seokmin told him how he felt about Wonwoo, how he’d been the first one to find out and how he’d always known it would happen. He’d always known how this day would come.

Seokmin was crying. So was Wonwoo. Jeonghan welcomed the champagne, and by the time the food had been served and eaten and people were dispersing to the dance-floor, there were tears sticking to his cheeks as well.

“I’m so happy,” He said. “I’m so happy for them.” He said it again and again, when Seokmin, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Nayeon, Seungcheol, Wonwoo’s mum and one five-year old cousin of Seokmin’s all asked if he was okay.

When Wonwoo and Seokmin had their first dance, to a piano version of The Killers that the pair had coined _‘their song’_ , Jeonghan’s tears flowed more freely. He no longer cared. He knew that people thought nothing of it. It was a wedding, his best friend’s wedding. Everyone was crying. Seokmin’s mother had almost tackled him with an embrace afterwards, exclaiming “Oh, Jeonghan! This is the best day of my life! They’re so beautiful! Look at them.”

Jeonghan didn’t want to, not anymore. He squeezed her back then excused himself to go outside. The June night air was uncharacteristically bitter, but he welcomed it. His flushed skin prickled with relief and he sighed, his breath billowing out visibly in front of him.

He heard the boyish hoots of Mingyu before he saw him. He huffed at the intrusion on his peace but plastered a smile on his face when he saw them approach. Mingyu was visibly drunk and his hand was clasped around Nayeon’s. Behind him was a stumbling Seungcheol and two guys he recognised as Chan and Jihoon, Seokmin’s friends whom Jeonghan had never really gotten to know.

“Jeonghaaaaaaan!” Mingyu sang, joining him on the garden bench he’d found. “Fuck, isn’t this the best?”

Nayeon hummed in delight. The sleeves of her pretty bridesmaid dress were pushed up to her elbows and she’d swapped her heels for a pair of trainers. Jeonghan couldn’t help but notice a fresh-looking lovebite on her collarbone and he needn’t guess who had given it to her.

“This is the best day ever. I love weddings, I really do. Everyone needs to get married so we can have them all the time.” Mingyu blabbered. “Oi, Nayeon, when are we getting married?”

Nayeon laughed loudly, shoving at his wandering hand. “In your dreams, arsehole.”

“Hey, man.” Chan said, catching Jeonghan’s attention. “Your speech was really good. I loved it.”

“Thank you.” Jeonghan said, emptying his glass of champagne.

“Yeah, shit, Han. Who knew you could be so sappy and sentimental. Should be you and Seoku getting married.” Seungcheol said.

Jeonghan snorted and after a beat of silence he was laughing, hard. He couldn’t stop and the rest of them had joined in, their intoxicated states and the encouragement of Jeonghan’s reaction causing the humour to heighten. Jeonghan wished they could see the irony of what Seungcheol had said.

The rest of the night went by with Jeonghan gliding around the reception like a ghost. He had been tempted to find the most attractive boy with the most distant connection to Seokmin and Wonwoo to take back to his hotel room, but had given up by the time it turned one and people were filling out. Jeonghan said his goodbyes and after lengthy embraces from Seokmin and Wonwoo, he stumbled to the front of the venue and called a taxi. He collapsed into bed in his hotel room and slept with his suit and tie still on.

When Jeonghan woke up, he decided that he wasn’t going to take it any longer.

 

 

-

 

 

Jeonghan’s method of distancing himself increased to the point where he was doing it almost shamelessly. He ignored calls, even from people like Seungcheol and Nayeon. When Seokmin or Wonwoo called asking why they never saw him anymore he’d give a monotonous, automatic answer; _‘Sorry. I’m busy.’_ The thing is, he was busy, but he made himself that way.

He decided it would be courteous to let everyone know he had taken a job offer in Paris, so he put the news into a curt email. The responses were mixed — most of them had been congratulatory as it was a prestigious job and had an even handsomer pay than he already had — but he could feel the shock and distress radiating from his laptop screen when he opened the replies from Seokmin and Wonwoo.

He left without a fuss, shooting down Mingyu’s suggestion at a going-away party. He’d bought an apartment in Roquette and moved in two weeks after Christmas, a year and a half after the wedding.

He pretty much lost contact with everyone after he moved. Six months into it, he had spent a week back in London, mainly to visit his family, but he found himself spending a night with Nayeon and Mingyu. They were together now and were living in Brixton. He turned down an offer to stay the night at theirs and took the train back to Paris in the morning. Two years after he moved, Seungcheol spent a weekend in Paris with his girlfriend Mina and they contacted him to meet over coffee. Seungcheol told him how Seokmin was unbearably angry at him and he had his first huge fight with Wonwoo over it. Jeonghan had tried desperately to keep the conversation away from the two of them but Seungcheol purposefully made a point of it.

“He hates you, Jeonghan.” He said, when Jeonghan had asked him to drop it. “He really hates you.”

Jeonghan stopped all contact with them after that. He avoided Nayeon, Mingyu and Seungcheol’s calls until they stopped coming. He even removed all of their emails from his contact list. He did his best to break himself away from what he called his _‘past life’_ and tried to move on. He made new friends and occupied himself, but he couldn’t help but sometimes plague his mind with the image of Seokmin and Wonwoo arguing over him.

Jeonghan started dating. It was the first time he’d done it for almost five years. He went on plenty first dates but never seconds. After a period of meeting up with pretty and interesting people at bars and restaurants, he gave up. He felt bad, giving them false hope. He just wasn’t interested in any of them. He quickly fell back into his old habits and found himself participating in a never-ending string of one night stands. It was unhealthy and Jeonghan knew it, but he didn’t care. As long as he was satisfied in that area, he didn’t mind that he went home to an empty bed.

He thought about Wonwoo and Seokmin less and less as time grew on. There was very little reminder left of them in his life. He was living in a different country, they had none of the same friends anymore and he didn’t listen to the same music or watch the same films that he used to, they all had connections to them. The only things that remained, the last strand he held on to, were two photographs he kept tucked away in his sock drawer.

The first was of him and Seokmin. It was taken on one of Nayeon’s disposable cameras. In the picture, they had their arms around each other and were laughing brightly into the camera. The flash of the camera lit up their skin and clothes and light leaks danced prettily around them. They were at a festival, it was the end of their first year. They were happy and drunk and they were best friends. Nayeon had developed it and made a copy, so he and Seokmin had one each. Jeonghan was certain that Seokmin’s copy had been torn, burned or thrown away.

The second was a Polaroid photo. It didn’t belong to Jeonghan as he’d technically stolen it. It was of Wonwoo; he was lying down (Jeonghan presumed it was in Seokmin’s bed, which made him feel guilty and slightly gross when he thought hard about it) and grinning. His head was tilted to the side and his eyes were screwed shut, his arm resting across his forehead. Seokmin had taken it on the Instax camera Nayeon had given him for his birthday. Jeonghan remembered the two of them buying packets upon packets of film on one of their supermarket runs, explaining that they were going to have a little photoshoot with the new camera. Jeonghan found the picture on the floor outside Seokmin’s bedroom. Instead of returning it to them, he had stuffed it in his pocket and kept it for himself. The Polaroid resided in the sock drawer too.

One night, after Jeonghan had indulged in a few too many glasses of wine after dinner, he had stormed up to his bedroom and grabbed the photos from the drawer, tossing them out of the window of his third floor apartment. He promptly began to panic after this drunken outburst and ran out into the street barefoot and in his pyjamas, grabbing the photos from where they had landed; one on the pavement, frighteningly near an open drain, and the other in a bed of flowers by the lobby door.

Jeonghan knew it was pathetic to keep the photographs, but he couldn’t resist. It was the last connection he had. He missed them both, as much as he hated to admit it and as much as he tried not to, he did. He sometimes thought of his actions and how cruel they had been. Seokmin and Wonwoo, who both had no idea why he had left, had lost one of their best friends. They had no idea that he couldn’t even bear to be in the company because his whole body was consumed with his envy of Seokmin and his love of Wonwoo. He’d just left, without a word or an explanation. Without even an apology.

These thoughts only came every so often. Usually when he was drunk or if he passed a shop that smelt like Wonwoo, or heard a song that Seokmin had showed him. It brought a little pinch to his chest now, whereas before he felt the guilt and hurt cause every hair on his body to stand on end.

Five years after he had last spoken to either of them, almost exactly five years, Jeonghan was spending three weeks in London. His company was hosting an event in Mayfair that he was to speak at. The same week his cousin was getting married in St John’s Wood. He spent the first week visiting family and helping with wedding preparations, the second week being filled with his obligations and the third was for himself. He was staying in a flat he’d found through Airbnb, the owners of which were on holiday with their children. He’d eaten out or ordered a takeaway almost every night during his stay and had decided to haul himself to a Tesco and buy supplies to cook for himself for one night.

He was browsing the fruit and vegetable aisle when he heard his voice. His hand froze around the sack of satsumas he was reaching for and his feet cemented into the floor.There was no way. He was in Central London, there were millions of people here. It could be anybody.

“Put it back. We’re not getting that, OK?” He heard him say. His back was to the voice and Jeonghan felt a strange sensation of déjà vu. He heard a laugh and the voice in his head that was telling him _‘this could be anybody, there are billions of people on this Earth, people are bound to sound the same,’_ began to doubt itself. “Just grab some of those lentils, please.”

Jeonghan tried to resume what he was doing, he tried to push the voice out of his head, deciding it was his imagination playing up and not even a voice that sounded like his. But then, he heard it again and this time he truly froze. His heart immediately started to pump a thousand times fast and heat increased rapidly in his face.

“Seokmin, for fuck’s sake. Put it back. We’re not buying that,” The voice started stern but broke off with a laugh. A second terrifyingly familiar voice was heard and Jeonghan thought he was going to throw up into the crate of cucumbers in front of him.

“They’re good though, we can put them in the soup.”

The first voice laughed again, a beautiful and delicate laugh that sounded as if it would rise flowers from the earth on its own. “You’re impossible.”

Jeonghan heard their voices coming closer and the racket of the trolley wheels rolling around the corner. Panic settled in suddenly. He was right in the middle of the aisle and if he tried to run out they’d notice. He could turn his back to where they were approaching and walk away calmly so they never saw his face. He almost did this until he realised with a sickening feeling that he was wearing his old university hoodie. Jeonghan thought to himself that this was _it_. He really and truly was going to die of embarrassment.

“Shit,” He heard Seokmin say. He didn’t move but his eyes flickered over and he saw them peripherally. Yeah, _shit_ , he thought.

“Oh my god… Jeonghan?” Wonwoo said. His voice was raked with disbelief.

Jeonghan turned to them and did his best impression of surprise. He had picked up a bag of sweet potatoes and thanked himself profusely for this, as he now had something to do with his sweating, shaking hands.

There wasn’t much difference with the two of them. In fact, they would look as if it hadn’t been five years but five days if it weren’t for Seokmin’s hair being a darker shade — his natural colour — and the ever-so-slight fullness in Wonwoo’s face. Jeonghan hated that he noticed these things immediately.

Wonwoo was smiling up at him and he felt confusion. He was happy to see him — or at least he was visibly. Jeonghan noticed that the sharp jolt over his body and the sick turn in his stomach wasn’t there, instead just a very slight — but noticeable — tug at his throat. It was strange. He hadn’t seen him for five years but he remembered exactly how it had felt when he looked at him, like he was burning his skin with his eyes. But it was hardly there now. It had been so long.

“How… How are you? I thought… we thought you lived in Paris?” Wonwoo asked and Jeonghan realised with embarrassment that he hadn’t said anything yet, he had just been staring.

Jeonghan’s eyes cut to Seokmin and it was then he felt his stomach turn, but it was a different kind. Seokmin was practically glaring; his jaw was set hard and his eyes were unwavering, set upon Jeonghan with what he could only attest to be disgust. There was no need to decode it, Seokmin was not happy to see him.

“Yeah, I’m… um, I’m here on business. And my cousin got married last week.” Jeonghan explained, trying his best not to stumble over his words.

“Oh, that’s great! You’re still with _The Boar_ , then?” Wonwoo asked, and Jeonghan knew he was genuinely interested. Wonwoo had never been good at lying.

“Not anymore, I’m the assistant director at their sister company.”

“Wow, Jeonghan. That’s brilliant!” Wonwoo looked over to Seokmin with a desperate glance, silently begging him to say something. He then pushed the trolley towards him which Seokmin took enthusiastically, his large hands tightening menacingly around the handlebar.

Mingyu almost dropped the sweet potatoes in his hand when he heard the sound of a baby gargling come from the trolley. He looked down at the child’s seat that he hadn’t clocked before.

“You have a baby?” Jeonghan couldn’t stop himself from almost exclaiming.

“Yeah!” Wonwoo replied with a grin. “Five months.”

Seokmin cut in before Jeonghan could choke out a congratulations. “Our second.” He practically spat, his eyes still boring into Jeonghan. “Soonyoung is at home with my mum. He’s two.”

Jeonghan knew what he meant. He wasn’t trying to make small talk or brag about his adorable toddler like he would to a stranger or new friend. He was saying, we have a two-year old son, one you’ve never even met. We might have made you godfather if you hadn’t fucked off to Paris and never spoken to us again. Seokmin was trying to make him feel guilty. It was working.

Wonwoo touched his arm gently which seemed to pull Seokmin out of it, only slightly. He gave him a chaste look before turning back to Jeonghan with a smile.

“Yeah, he’s got a little sister now.” Jeonghan knew he was putting all his effort in to diffuse the tension and to make him feel at ease. He didn’t deserve it, Jeonghan knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Jeonghan managed.

Seokmin snorted. Wonwoo gave him another hard look.

“Thank you, Jeonghan.”

“Look,” Seokmin said again, his voice was cold. Jeonghan had hardly ever heard it like that before. “We would love to stand and chat but we have to get back to our son. It’s very late.” Then he began to push the trolley right past Jeonghan, staring straight over his head.

“Jeonghan, how long are you in London for?”

“Until the end of the week.” He had thought quickly of lying but the look Wonwoo was giving stopped him.

“Let me give you my number.”

Jeonghan wanted to find a way not to, but then he looked up to his face and saw tears in his eyes so suddenly he was pulling his phone from his pocket and was tapping his phone number into his contacts. Seokmin was stood behind him with a scowl and Jeonghan was desperately trying to avoid his stare.

“Come see us, Jeonghan. Please.”

“I will.”

Wonwoo stepped towards him and lowered his voice so he was talking just to him. “He misses you. So much. We both do… still.”

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo-“

“Call me, OK?” His voice back to a normal volume.

“OK,” Jeonghan breathed out.

With a small wave from Wonwoo, they disappeared around the corner into another aisle. Jeonghan tossed the sweet potatoes into his basket and left it on the floor, swiftly leaving the supermarket and crossing back to the flat with long strides. He ordered a takeaway and ate it in front of the TV before passing out.

In the morning he decided that he would call Wonwoo. He’d go have dinner with them and he would apologise. Twice. He wouldn’t explain, he’d just tell them that he was stupid and selfish and sorry. He would meet their little boy. He knew in his gut that Seokmin would forgive him, if he was anything like he used to be — which was very likely. It was all coming over him at once; the guilt, the relief, the pain, the nostalgia.

He fixed himself a small breakfast then grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on the TV cabinet. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Wonwoo’s name and, with a smile, he pressed _‘Call’_.

 


End file.
